The First Spear, Nori Hukama, legendary general and lord daimyō of Ujiwara Karimato walked into the palace throne room. Ujiwara bowed to his aging master.

If not for the intentional shaving of the top of his head, Hukama would have been balding. His grey hair was tied into a tight topknot, his eyes thin and his face weathered. Had he been fishing on the side of a river bank, no one would suspect that he was probably the greatest general in the land.

That was why he was sometimes called the Fisherman. He wore no armor, even now, and his sandals were nothing more than the fibrous waraji he had fashioned himself.

Hukama was an austere man. It was this that bellied his great ambition. Ambitions Ujiwara shared. In a fashion. The old daimyō grunted in satisfaction as he laid a hand on the arm rest of the royal throne before turning to seat himself. Then the general took pause, clearly admiring the chair before Ujiwara interrupted him.

“My lord,” he said. “The palace is ours. The last of Daimyō Sakuraichi’s samurai were fleeing by the time you stepped into the palace grounds.

“And Emperor Kurosawa?”

“Fled,” Ujiwara said, “along with most of Sakuraichi’s forces. “I suspect he still has a few thousand samurai in the area, but they’re laying low. My scouts have also spotting ninja through-out the city.”

Without looking at him, Hukama nodded. “You have done well. With the Emperor fleeing the palace, he will no doubt attempt to go to the temple. That position will afford him an unassailable advantage in combat.”

“He will not abandon that position lightly.”

“No,” Hukama said. “He will not. He will try to get word out of the city so that his armies may return from the wars they fight to rescue him from his entrapment. We cannot allow that to happen.”

“I have hundreds of scouts and ninja patrolling the streets and countryside to prevent such an occurrence, my lord. My only concern is Sakuraichi’s forces still scattered, hidden within the city.”

“You have more than enough samurai at your disposal,” Hukama said. He nodded, evidentially satisfied, though he maintained his characteristic austere stoicism. “Make certain he does not succeed. Sakuraichi is not a man to be underestimated.”

Ujiwara moved to address the throne properly. “He will not succeed, my lord.”

“I have confidence in you, Ujiwara. Nevertheless, we will try to uproot Emperor Kurosawa from his position at the temple. If he abandons that high ground he will undoubtedly flee for the harbor to escape. I have lady Markovila and a force of my best samurai awaiting for such an occurrence. We are two steps ahead of him. Let us not lose any one of our advantages.”

Ujiwara nodded, a feeling of uncertainty rising in him.

“Do you wish to ask me something?”

“Yes, my lord, if I may?”

The daimyō nodded.

“You are the most honorable daimyō of them all and the most intelligent man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing—“

“And you are the best swordsman I have had the pleasure of knowing, Ujiwara,” the daimyō said curtly. “You know I don’t like platitudes. Say what it is you wish to say.”

If not a direct disciple of the daimyō, Ujiwara would have been a samurai, and though he was not, he was of the samurai class. “It’s this foreign witch, my lord. She worships dark gods, her magic is vile. And that—that creature she keeps—this skulking cretin that calls himself the Spider. Can we trust them?”

Hukama got up off the throne, walked past Ujiwara with his hands clasped behind himself. “Lady Markovila is a woman of means,” he said. “She cannot be trusted. But… she has found herself lacking those means. If anything, we can trust her to do as she says, for if she betrays me, she betrays her chances at revival, and she does not wish to find herself a beggarly woman.”

He’s completely right, Ujiwara thought. His logic is sound, so why do I feel this way?

Ujiwara’s eyes jerked up as, quite unexpectedly, the daimyō put a palm over his shoulder. “I too find these… characters quite unsavory,” he said. “But surely as the Sword of a Thousand Suns, you know that it is not the blade that brings you honor, but the victories you attain. Am I not correct?”

“Hai.”

The daimyō nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible smile visible. “This victory will bring us great honor, Ujiwara.”

“Of course. You are indeed correct, as you ever are, sensei.”

Now he did smile. “Yes. Now go, Ujiwara. Stop Sakuraichi from warning Kurosawa’s generals of what is happening here in the city.”

“Hai!” Ujiwara cried. He gave a bow to his daimyō before leaving the throne chamber.

Now it was time to begin rooting out unaccounted for forces Sakuraichi had hidden in the city.